


Five Golden Rings

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, More Fluff, nothing here but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 10:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: In the end, it all comes down to five golden rings.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 103
Collections: Harmony Advent Collection 2019





	Five Golden Rings

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest of thanks to the admins of Harmony & Co for hosting this incredible advent! Hope everyone is enjoying their holiday season thus far. 
> 
> Also, alpha hearts to MCal and Beta love to Frumpologist. I so appreciate you both! Hope you guys enjoy this chunk o' fluff!

“ _ Capacious extremis _ .” Unwavering. Strong. He flicked his wrist, followed by a tight swirl. Feeling overly confident and utterly ridiculous, he shoved his hand in his robe pocket and growled at his repeated failure. “Merlin’s saggy—”

“Hello, Darling!” 

“Hermione!” Picking up his robes, Harry chucked them clear across the room as though their very existence offended him. His girlfriend froze, still in the middle of pulling her pump from her stockinged foot, and stared doe-eyed at him. 

“Are you quite alright?” She laughed, finishing the job and then removing the other. 

Sweat gathered at his hairline and Harry removed his glasses to clean them absently, only then wiping the moisture from his brow as he chuckled nervously. “Yes,  _ quite _ . Quite, indeed. How was work?”

Groaning, his wild-haired, eternally exhausted witch, pulled her blouse free and banished it to the hamper. Leaving her in only her bra and a skirt as she began working on the zipper to free herself from that as well. “It was exactly as it always it. Frustrating and ridiculous and you know—” The volume of her voice drifted quieter as she strode into their closet, her skirt flying out moments later. “I hate to think I’m the smartest person in any given room but in that department, I guarantee that I am! How was your day?”

“ _ My day _ ?” His voice croaked like a pubescent boy and he pounded his fist on his chest to clear the frog from his throat. “My day was…” He couldn’t very well tell her what he’d been doing, or how many galleons he’d spent doing it, and the panic that settled in was heavy enough to pull a dragon from the air. “Fine.” 

“Just fine?” She called, her voice muffled by fabric before she finally appeared again, sweeping her curls off her shoulder and turning to expose the zipper of her favorite, red cocktail dress. The one she swore made her look thin, no matter how many times he swore up and done that she just  _ was _ thin. 

“Yeah.” A knowing smirk pulled at his lips as he pinched the small steel of her zipper and pulled it into position. “Just fine.” 

Turning, her fingers curled in the fabric of his Oxford and she pressed against him, peering up at him in that way that made him lose all reasonable thought. “Why were you casting an Extension Charm on your robes, Auror Potter? Up to no good?” 

The blood drained from his face, his jaw falling open. She knew. 

With a bright laugh, she pulled her wand free and summoned his robes into her waiting palm. “I heard you cursing to yourself on my way up the stairs and caught the tail end of the spell. You know it’s illegal, yes?” 

Silently, he nodded. 

“And that you’re rubbish at charms and should have just gone and asked your girlfriend, who is far superior in such subjects?” Her brows lifted playfully, her forefinger poking between his ribs. 

With a soft yelp, he rolled his eyes and relented. “Of course, love. When will I ever learn?”

“Well since you begged—”

“ _ I did not beg _ !” 

Grinning, Hermione set his favorite robes on the bed and in a quick and effortless flourish, successfully cast the spell he had been aiming to master for the better part of the day. Disbelief was plain on his face as he reached into the pocket, his features falling dejectedly as the lining gave way and he reached inside until he was nearly elbow deep. 

“Oh.” Brows knitted, and lips pulled tight to one side, he huffed. “Thanks, love.” 

“Anytime.” Leaning in, his witch placed a quick kiss on his cheek and then summoned her black pumps from the closet. “Now, hurry and get dressed! We’ll not have time for a pre-drink before the Burrow, and Merlin knows I need one before I deal with Molly Weasley after the day I’ve had.” 

Heels in hand, his girlfriend disappeared through the doorway and he heard her soft footfall down the stairs of Grimmauld Place. 

The entire party at the Burrow later that night had been orchestrated by none other than himself, a celebration for them to announce their engagement. Hermione had been so frustrated that Molly was throwing her Christmas Eve party nearly a week early, but she would soon understand. Unless… she said no. In which case, he would hide in his shame and never step foot in public again.

Swallowing the urge to wretch at his feet, he yanked open his end table drawer. Nestled inside were five velvet boxes, holding five very different rings that he’d purchased earlier. Sweat slicked thick on his palms as he shoved them all in his robe pocket and steadied himself. 

Harry, in all his crazy indecision, had been to the jeweler in London no less than a dozen times. And each time, the bespeckled old man behind the counter would pull out the five possible rings. Then, for nearly an hour, sometimes more, Harry would stare at them before leaving without a ring. But he had gone and run out of time; tonight was the night. He was going to propose to the witch of his dreams, Hermione Granger. 

xXx

The bar he’d chosen for the biggest moment of his life was festively decorated within an inch of its life. Tinsel and wreaths and gods-awful magical mistletoe tickled his cheek. He’d attempted to swat it away but it was pernicious at best, curling and winding around his face until he gave in and kissed his blasted witch again and again. 

He had a plan. 

Which wasn’t something that Harry Potter necessarily excelled in regularly. But for this, he did. A cue. A speech.  _ A plan _ . 

Champagne arrived and Hermione pulled a face, playfully poking at him as she lifted her flute and tipped it to her lips. “Well, aren’t we fancy, Auror Potter?” Words began tumbling from her lips; a hasty recap of her day, gossip about Ginny and the girlfriend she’d be bringing tonight and somewhere along the way, Harry’s eyes glazed over. 

Not that he wasn’t in rapture about his girlfriend’s ramblings, but something struck him. It was time to just bloody ask her. 

“It’s not that I think Ginny’s rushing into anything; it’s just that she just broke up with what’s-her-face. It seems soon to bring someone home for Chris—”

“Hermione.” His voice was too low, trembling in its deep timbre and Hermione startled and chuckled as she finished her champagne. 

“Harry? Are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting—”

Waving his hands wildly in a vain attempt to quiet her, his eyes pinched shut as he let out a long, drawn-out, “ _ Shhh _ !”

Bristling next to him, Hermione’s eyes blew wide and round and she swatted at his shoulder, admonishing him quietly for shushing her. 

“I just, I have something to say! Would you let me—” Harry raked a hand through his hair and then pulled his glasses off, freezing as the Maitre D’ clapped his hands merrily and gestured for Harry’s cloak. 

Bugger it all. The blasted cue. He wasn’t ready yet--he hadn’t meant to...

“ _ Congratulations _ !” The staff cheered, delivering a fresh bottle of champagne, as confetti burst from over their heads and rained down in a flurry around them. 

One spectacularly clumsy host tripped over his own feet and two velvet boxes toppled out, rolling gently against Hermione’s pumps. 

She froze, confetti stuck in her hair and wide, horrified eyes as the staff stared on hungrily, awaiting her reaction. “What on earth, Harry?”

Groaning, he glared at the Maitre D’, knowing full well it was not his fault, but being bloody irritated anyway, and leaned down to pick up the two boxes at their feet. 

“I had planned this all to be much smoother. Far more debonair like those ridiculous movies you make me watch—”

“They’re classics, Harry! They aren’t ridic—”

“What I’m trying to say,” he paused, eyeing her strictly for interrupting, “is that I’m in love with you. Have been for more years than I am willing to admit and would very much like if you agreed to be my wife.” 

The bewildered witch stared at the two boxes in his hand, then slid her gaze up to his. “Y—you’re proposing? For marriage?”

Barking out a laugh, Harry nodded, ignoring the happy tears welling in the corner of his eyes. “I am.” 

“And you bought two rings?” Her laughter trilled through the air as she swiped at the new tears striping down her own cheeks.”Am I to wear one on each finger?”

Baring his teeth in chagrin, Harry bent for his robes and with a light grimace reached into his pocket. One by one he placed the boxes on the bar top, ignoring the weighty stares of the patrons all around them. 

“Five?” Hermione balked, her jaw falling open and eyes rounding at the sight of them. “You bought five rings? Why on earth—”

“I couldn’t decide,” he admitted with a deep blush. Opening each one swiftly until the glittering gemstones were shining under the bar light. “This in no way was how I intended any of this to go, but with full awareness that probably nothing will ever go how it should where I am concerned, what do you say?”

There was a moment of immeasurable silence, it thrummed and clung to the air and suffocated him until she barked out a laugh and barreled into him. Before a happy thought could cross his mind, her lips were on his, pressing again and again and again and mumbling, “Yes, yes, yes, you sodding fool.” around her kisses. 

The kisses, sadly, ended and with a wide audience, she turned to her rings. Wrapping his arms around her waist and settling his chin on her shoulder, he shrugged. “Pick one.” 

“You’re ridiculous, Harry Potter.” 

“Quite possibly,” he admitted, turning his stubbled chin into her neck and earning a bright laugh. “But you’re the one who agreed to marry me.”


End file.
